Moment of Weakness
by Indee
Summary: It's an ordinary night on the job and Draco's on a Death Eater stakeout. All goes well until his clumsy, noisy partner comes into the picture. Slash. HD. Oneshot.


15/03/2007 15:46:00

His breath came out in wisps of white smoke and if it weren't for the warmth charm he'd placed on his cloak, he might have been hiding indoors. It was chilly for a June night. He brushed away the blonde hair that was blown into his eyes by the cold breeze, his leather gloves creaking as they clutched his wand tighter. His eyebrows knitted together.

Footsteps were fast approaching from down the alleyway he stood near. The scuffing of feet, the slight squeak of wet leather. The night was so quiet, he thought he could even hear the brush of cloth. Although his hands were hidden inside his black gloves, his knuckles were turning white from the firm grip he had on his wand. He slipped it out of his pocket as the footsteps grew closer and more urgent.

The owner of the squeaky shoes and bad gait practically flew around the corner and directly into him. Startled, he'd raised his wand, but realized very quickly that the action was needless.

"Malfoy, what the hell are you doing out here?" snapped the disheveled man in ill-fitting muggle clothes. "We don't have authorization to be out here, and if you think I'm going to let you get us both fired, you are sorely mistaken –"

"What are you, my mother?" Draco slid away his wand with a roll of his eyes. "Who gives a bloody flying rat's ass whether we have authorization or not? Now, shut up before someone hears you."

Turning away from the noisy git who had rudely interrupted his stake out, he focused his attention on the building he'd been watching previously. It was an old apartment building that had been condemned and was now being used as a hide-out for Death Eaters. Or so they had suspected. Thus the reason Draco was standing on the corner of the alleyway just out of reach of the streetlamps.

"I swear, Malfoy, if you –"

Draco slapped his gloved hand over the annoying man's mouth as a woman exited the condemned building. She glanced over her shoulder, pulling her dark cloak tighter around her. From this distance, all Draco could see of her was the long black hair that was tied in a high pony-tail at the back of her head and her milky white legs. She wore a pair of pumps that clicked against the pavement as she walked. She began to walk towards them, although from where they were, she hadn't yet spotted them.

Quickly, Draco hid himself in a small doorway barely large enough for him, let alone his Auror partner that was too stupid to move. He grabbed a handful of the man's cloak and pulled him into the nook, maneuvering himself so that they would both fit without being spotted.

"If I knew we'd end up in this predicament, I would've brought my invisibility cloak," whispered the Auror.

"For the love of Merlin, Potter, shut up!" Draco hissed, resisting the urge to kick Potter in the leg. It wouldn't exactly be a stealthy maneuver, considering Potter would yelp and whine like a baby if he did. The woman drew closer, and although hidden in shadows, Draco's chest clenched at the idea that they were still quite out in the open. Of course, it certainly didn't help that Potter couldn't keep his damn mouth closed.

"I think I know her," Potter said, tilting his head out of the doorway so that he could get a better look. Subsequently, a head sticking out of a doorway made them that much easier to spot. The clicking of heels drew closer, but Draco didn't want to look to see where the woman was. They were sure to get caught and then, possibly, killed and it would be Potter's fault entirely. "Oh! I know, I know who she is!"

Draco put his hand against his head. He was dealing with a three year old stuck in a man's body, he was positive of it. How had Potter ever passed Auror training? Had he missed the day they covered stealth?

"That's great, Potter, but let's discuss it _after _she's out of earshot," Draco all but snarled, as quietly as he could manage. Potter glanced at him before climbing out of the doorway and walking straight for the woman. Draco could only slide down the brick wall of the doorway and put his head in his hands. So much for this mission.

"Su? Su Li?" he could hear Potter say. Draco lifted his head. Su Li? But she worked in the Unspeakable department with Granger. She couldn't possibly have been a Death Eater. Draco peered around the corner and sure enough, it appeared Su Li was in cohorts with Death Eaters. She and Potter both stood beneath a streetlamp. Potter was _trying _to sabotage his career, he was sure of it.

"Harry?" Su turned to look at Harry, and Draco was startled to see her smile, without an ounce of suspicion. "What are you doing down this way?"

"Quite frankly, I'd much rather be at home right now, but Malfoy forced me to come down here when he insisted on checking out the apartment building," Potter said conversationally, as though they were talking about the weather. Draco was horrified. "He's convinced there are Death Eaters lurking about there."

Su laughed, and clutched at Potter's arm. Draco gritted his teeth and wasn't sure whether to feel completely moronic or pissed off. Instead he felt strangely predatory and he wasn't sure why. "So where is he, then?"

"Hiding. Probably wanting to strangle me," Potter continued on. "I tried to stop him, honestly, but he has absolutely no regard for his superiors, so telling him we had no authorization to come down here was about as effective as attracting flies with vinegar, really. Hermione's going to have a fit."

Draco couldn't help but suddenly be confused. What did Granger have to do with any of this? Why was Potter divulging information with _her_? Was he really that thick that he couldn't keep his mouth shut? Or was it the other way around? Was Draco really the thick one who couldn't see what was going on?

"She's going to be so disappointed," Su sighed. "She thought she'd been so good at keeping this entire thing a secret."

"Well, _she _was. Blaise and Daphne couldn't have been," Potter said and Draco slumped back down to the ground to think about everything he was hearing. What the bloody hell was going on? "Who else would the Death Eaters be?"

Su laughed again. "Of course. Someone must have spotted them and jumped to conclusions. Poor Draco, he's going to be so disappointed that there aren't any Death Eater's to catch."

"Unless he wants to arrest his best friends, but I don't think that would go over well," Potter said with a chuckle, and plagued by confusion, Draco was simply getting annoyed now. Finally, he could bare it no longer. Pushing himself onto his feet, he left the doorway with flourish and all but stomped over to the pair under the streetlamp.

"Potter, what is all this nonsense?" he snapped, irritated. He did not like when he was made a fool of, nor when he was confused. These were two things that Draco just could not abide by. Su looked a bit startled at Draco's abrupt appearance, though she had known he had been lurking somewhere nearby, and Potter merely looked like he was about to burst into a fit of giggles. He seemed as though he was trying very hard not to grin. Which, of course, only pissed Draco off more.

"If you don't mind, Hermione wanted me to get refreshments, so I'll see you in a bit," Su said, shooting Draco a smile and walking off toward the alley. Shortly after she had disappeared beyond the brick buildings, there was a pop as she apparated away. Draco had to refrain from hexing Potter into the next century for making him feel the idiot.

"C'mon," Potter said, grabbing Draco's wrist and dragging him along. "No sense keeping you in the dark now."

"Let go of me," Draco said, attempting to pull his arm away from his underhanded partner, but the attempt was fruitless. Potter had always been physically stronger than him. Draco was the one that was quick on his toes and fast to fling spells. He was the one who usually thought up the plans (although, this one had turned a complete flop), whereas Potter usually handled the grunt work.

"Sometimes you are so thick," Potter said with another laugh, and Draco had half the mind to stupefy him and leave him in the street. They reached the door of the abandoned apartment building and instead of just entering, Potter knocked three times, paused, and then another two times.

Surprisingly (or unsurprisingly, really, if he had been following any of the conversation that had just taken place), Granger had answered the door. Her face lit up at the sight of Potter, but then fell when she spotted Draco beside him.

"Harry!" she said, almost in a whine, but Granger never whined. That Draco knew of. "_He's _not supposed to be here yet."

"I couldn't stop him," Potter said with a shrug.

"Everything's ruined," Granger moaned, leaning against the door.

"It's not, he still hasn't got a clue," Potter grinned at Draco. Draco felt the need to kill rising within him.

"I have a license to kill, you know," he pointed out. Well, if somehow Potter managed to turn up dead one morning, it wasn't as though he hadn't _warned _him.

"Come in then. I suppose it's too late to warn everyone?" Granger said, stepping aside so they could pass.

"A bit," Potter answered, before dragging Draco inside. Draco did not like being dragged around. The next time Potter asked him to get the coffee before work, he was going to put vinegar and curdled cream in it.

It turned out that the inside of the apartment building was lavishly decorated and not at all what it had appeared to be from the outside. To any suspecting wizard, this was no surprise, since many magical locations were disguised as decrepit, old areas. What _was_ surprising, however, was the obnoxiously colored confetti strewn about with the odd streamer and balloon.

It suddenly dawned on Draco and he wasn't sure what to make of this situation.

Potter lead him into what should have been the main lobby, but had been expanded to the size of a grand ballroom. Of course, since no one had been suspecting them, no one bothered to look their way, so Draco watched in mild fascination as people Draco knew from school or from work set about decorating the area with balloons, streamers and confetti. Pansy Parkinson was coming out of a backroom with a large cake floating in front of her. Behind her, Lavender Brown came out holding a tray full of what appeared to be pumpkin pasties.

"I hate you," were the first words out of Draco's mouth and he had directed them at Potter. Granger looked alarmed and slightly put out. A few people in the general vicinity managed to catch the phrase and looked to see who had said it, and stopped what they were doing when they saw who was standing in the doorway. The pause in work seemed to catch on and it wasn't long before everyone in the room had come to a stop.

"He means," Potter was quick to say. "He is pleasantly surprised and greatly appreciates the sentiment."

"I'm surprised," Daphne Greengrass popped up from somewhere behind Draco. She did this often and with great enthusiasm at work, so Draco wasn't entirely caught off-guard. "You've learned to speak Draco, Harry."

"We've worked together for a little over three years. I think I would understand Draconese," Potter said, looking a bit offended at the notion that he wouldn't understand his partner. Draco snorted. He _still _didn't understand Potter. "By the way, Malfoy, happy birthday."

Draco paused. "Is it really my birthday?"

"_Draco_," sighed an exasperated Blaise Zabini. "How could you forget your own birthday? The time for receiving copious amounts of presents and sex? Cake and whips? I mean, whip cream. Whip cream."

"Bugger off, Blaise," Draco snipped.

"Yes, Blaise," Daphne said in a stage whisper. "He's very sensitive about the S-E-X word. You know he hasn't gotten any in years."

After getting a look at the expression on Draco's face, both Blaise and Daphne scuttled off to do something or other that Draco didn't want to know about, ever.

After this, everything seemed to become a blur. As soon as everyone was aware that the man of the night had arrived, the party went into full swing. Before he knew it, music was playing, party hats were being put on (which Draco vehemently swore he would not touch with a ten foot pole, but had somehow gotten one stuck on his head anyway). Champagne was passed around and Draco found himself, as the night wore on, getting more and more tipsy.

As the evening gradually turned to morning and the party began to wind down, Draco realized what an odd evening this had transpired to be. He'd left his house, intent on capturing a few villains here and there, alone since Potter was adamant about not going or face expulsion, which turned out to be a smokescreen anyway, and he had somehow ended up on the end of a very comfortable sofa nursing a bottle of Butterbeer (after almost five glasses of champagne, Granger insisted he drink something with less alcohol content.)

Party goers began to leave or climb the stares to the upper floors of the apartment building, where Granger and her merry band of party planners had set up temporary rooms for the night, in case anyone was too drunk to apparate home. Potter, who had been seeing his Weasley friends off, collapsed onto the sofa beside him. It was at this moment Draco realized that he and Potter were the only one lefts in the room.

"Did you like your party?" Potter asked, leaning back and looking over at his partner.

"It was… different," Draco decided, trying very hard to think clearly when his mind was fuzzy from the champagne.

"Different?" Potter looked confused, though his eyes were a bit glazed behind their glasses and Draco had a feeling that Potter was nearly as inebriated as he was.

"I've never had a party," he said, stretching out and resting his head against the arm of the sofa. With no one around to spot him, he brought his legs onto the sofa and stretched them across Potter's legs. He was too drunk to care.

"You've never had a party?"

"I've had Balls. Sometimes a dinner party. But nothing ever like this," Draco answered, waving his Butterbeer bottle around at the room. "Usually it was just other pureblood families that I didn't like anyway. We – and by we, I mean Vince, Greg, Pansy and I – would hide in the library. Daphne and Blaise came along after my first year. Daphne would always hide in the study, because her mother would get absolutely pissed and would make a fool of herself and Blaise' mum was always trying to convince every bloke there to marry her. I think they became best friends at my birthdays because their mothers were insane."

"You have strange friends," Potter said, his speech slurred.

"Well, there was never any doubt in that," Draco answered, setting his Butterbeer bottle aside and tucking his arms under his head. "Vince and Greg are about as quick as trees and Daphne and Blaise are nymphomaniacs."

There was a break in the conversation and they simply sat comfortably in silence. It was strange, because this had never happened between himself and Potter. They were always bickering or discussing something or other and they had never simply sat in silence. Draco had almost thought it an impossibility, since there was also something to nag each other about. But there was this one moment, and it was comfortable and Draco didn't want to end it. It was probably just the alcohol making him sleepy and the comfortable couch. Potter was probably feeling the same way and they were simply too lazy to do anything.

There was suddenly a flash of light and Draco went momentarily blind. Potter was grumbling something that Draco couldn't quite hear. Blinking away the spots of light that were obstructing his vision, he spotted the annoyance almost immediately and he all but snarled, pulling himself off the couch and hurling himself towards the intruder.

"What? You two were just too cute. I couldn't resist!" Creevey said, easily dodging out of Draco's way, since he wasn't drunk. This was incredibly lucky for him, because if Draco _had _managed to get his hand's on the little devil, he would've strangled him for sure.

"I am not cute," Draco yelled after Creevey, as the photographer when running for the hills. There were many things Draco was and cute was not one of them. He preferred heartless bastard over cute. He hadn't been cute as a child and he certainly wasn't cute now, no matter how inebriated and sleepy he might have been.

"You are," Potter put in, grinning lazily from the sofa.

"Fuck off, Potter," Draco snapped. "I'm leaving."

"You're too drunk to apparate," Potter said, pushing himself off the sofa. "I think Hermione made some sort of special room or something upstairs for you."

"Your friends disturb me," Draco said, folding his arms over his chest before deciding, after the world took a nosedive, that he was too drunk to apparate. "What with their tree-hugging, muggle-loving, Death Eater-forgiving ways."

"They just like you," Potter said, making his own clumsy way out of the room and towards the stairs. Draco, who followed behind, gave him a look of intense disbelief. "Well, _some_ of them like you. Others were blackmailed into helping. Like Ron."

"What did you blackmail him with?" Draco asked, suddenly very interested in this conversation.

"If I told you, then I would have betrayed a very sacred bond between best friends," Potter said, raising a hand to his heart. "That and he would break every bone in my body if I told you."

"You should tell me anyway," Draco said, stumbling up the stairs. "It's my birthday."

"It isn't anymore," Potter said, looking down at his watch and squinting. "It's almost four hours after your birthday. I'm not going into work tomorrow."

"Tomorrow is Saturday," Draco pointed out.

"Oh. Good."

Shortly after the conversation had hit a dead end, Draco arrived at the room that was clearly meant to be his. Plastered across it in horridly bright letters was 'Birthday Boy'. Draco was too drunk to be appalled and horrified. As he flung open the door and went to say goodnight to Potter, he found himself floundering on his words. His brain seemed to spasm and instead of saying a very simple and easy 'Goodnight, Four-Eyes,' he instead asked, "What did you mean when you said I was cute?"

Potter stopped abruptly in his tracks towards a room at the end of the corridor and turned, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Did you mean cute as in adorable, or cute as in ravishingly sexy?" Draco asked, wondering why he would care that Potter thought him cute to begin with.

"Um," Potter paused a moment. "Well… both."

"Oh," Draco stared at Potter a moment. He wasn't sure he could wrap his mind around Potter thinking he was both adorable and ravishingly sexy (though he undeniably was). "But you're drunk, so it doesn't count."

"Not really," Potter said, taking a few tentative steps towards him.

"You're not?" Draco asked, dazed and more than a bit confused, for the second time that night.

"Not really," Potter repeated, before adding, "Less than you."

"Potter," Draco said suddenly, realizing something very quickly. "You're in my personal space. We've talked about this."

"I know," Potter was very close to him at this point and seemingly didn't care what was coming out of Draco's mouth, except that he seemed fixated at it. Needless to say, Draco was very alarmed.

"I think someone slipped you something," Draco said, his voice hitching in his throat. Yes, of course, that was it. Potter would never act this way on his own accord. Perhaps Blaise had bewitched Potter. Or perhaps paid him. Blaise was always telling him to get laid. Suddenly very suspicious and more than a bit paranoid, he glanced around, looking very closely to see if anyone was watching. "Potter, you do realize you are very close to me."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Potter said with a drawl and Draco knew instantly that this was the real Potter, not some Potter imposter intent on making Draco increasingly more uncomfortable. He took a step back and Potter took a step forward and he felt very much like he was being hunted. Potter leaned in and grasped Draco's arm. "What Blaise said, when we first got here…"

"W-what – P-Potter, this is –" Draco was tumbling over his own words and that _never _happened. He simply didn't stutter or stumble. Not even in the face of Voldemort or a pissed off version of his father. This was weird and awkward and foreign. "B-Blaise doesn't kn-know what he's talking about."

Potter pulled away and Draco was vastly relieved.

"I don't want to ruin this. Our relationship, I mean. As friends," Potter said, but he didn't step back any further. Draco probably could have flung himself into his room and slammed the door in Potter's face. He could have hid under his bed and cast as many locking charms as he knew on the door to keep the crazy Gryffindor away. But he didn't. He simply wasn't compelled to, even though he really should have been. "But… It's… three years, and I feel…"

"P-Potter, this is ridiculous. You're drunk. You're confused. You're not speaking in sentences. I'm Draco. Remember Malfoy? I'm sure Ginny is around here somewhere," Draco said quickly, though saying the Weasley girl's name brought up that strange, predatory feeling again.

"Will it ruin everything?" Potter asked. Draco laughed a bit hysterically. Since it was extremely apparent that Draco was too nervous and absolutely too hysterical to answer, Potter seemed to abandon waiting for an answer. Waiting at all. He leaned forward and all at once he was kissing Draco.

Draco was fairly sure that his brain had stopped working altogether. He couldn't think and couldn't move. He was so nervous he felt like throwing up – or maybe that was the champagne. Still, as short as the kiss was, it felt like a very long time and after Potter had pulled away and was waiting for a reaction, Draco was trying very desperately to get his brain going again.

Of course, when he did, he realized his mistake. Everything sped through his brain as though on fast forward and before he could stop himself, he had his arms wrapped around Potter's neck and he was doing things with his tongue he was certain he'd never done before. Potter, being the stronger more physical being of the two of them, was pressing himself against Draco and forcing them into the room especially for him.

Draco wasn't sure how he'd ended up flat on his back on the bed or even how the door had closed. Potter was leaning over him, cool hands running up his stomach and his lips firmly glued to Draco's. Of course, eventually one has to breathe, and when Potter finally pulled himself away from Draco, he rolled over on the bed beside Draco.

It was at this moment Draco took in his room and was once more horrified.

"Blaise did this. I know he did and I'm going to kill him."

Because Draco had been far too distracted by lips and tongue and kissing in general, he hadn't noticed the room when he'd backed in. The ceiling was all mirrors, the carpet was hideous, there were rose petals everywhere, the sheets were satin (which was nothing new to Draco, but they were red and purple, two colors that should never, ever mix), and he was sure the wallpaper had been charmed to resemble velvet. The sconces on the wall had been replaced with red candles that had flickered to life as soon as he and Potter had entered the room, and there was a weird smell that Draco couldn't identify.

"Look," Potter said. He had rolled over onto his stomach and was pointing at the pillows. Draco bent his neck backwards so that he didn't have to move very much and saw a lovely display of chocolates. Suddenly, Draco had a very paranoid thought and he sat up abruptly.

"You helped in this, didn't you? This was all an elaborate plan to get me drunk and seduce me," he accused. "I can see right through your ruse."

Potter began to laugh. And laugh. And laugh. And he wouldn't bloody stop, so Draco shoved him off the bed. And when that didn't cease the laughter, he took a handful of petals and threw them at the stupid git. And because petals are generally ineffective in causing any amount of pain, Draco crawled further up the bed, grabbed a box of chocolates and hurled them at Potter's head.

"Ow," Potter came up from the floor, rubbing the back of his head.

"Did you help with this?" Draco asked, folding his arms over his chest.

"No, I swear to God," Potter said, but he was still snickering in a very annoying fashion. "Although," he continued, pulling himself up onto the bed and drawing nearer to Draco. "I do plan on seducing you."

"You can't seduce me now that I know all about your plan," Draco said defiantly. No one seduced a Malfoy. Not even brunette, green-eyed, bespectacled, good-looking scarheads.

"I can try," Potter said, leaning over Draco and nuzzling his neck. Draco, who had never been nuzzled, shifted away. But Potter, it seemed, would not be deterred and he quickly turned nuzzling into kissing. He slowly made his way up Draco's neck and along his jaw. Draco's eyes were already glazing over, but Draco was determined not to be seduced. He pressed his palms against Potter's chest – and promptly forgot what he was doing.

"Resistance is futile," Potter whispered, his words buzzing against Draco's skin.

"I hate you," Draco said in as strong a voice he could muster, but it was rather high-pitched and somewhat squeaky. Potter just smiled in a slightly annoying but endearing way and somewhere along the line Draco melted and gave into the Gryffindor's wily charms.


End file.
